


Four Walls and a Roof

by Miss_Nixy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, Gallavich fucking rocks, M/M, but my writing doesn't :/, loooots of language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nixy/pseuds/Miss_Nixy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A typical cold f****** morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Walls and a Roof

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the best writer, you've been warned.
> 
> Done for jinkohamilton's anon prompt. Kinda wanted to fill out the idea. Found here: bit.ly/1l2n25Y
> 
> PS - I'm not awesome at editing either.
> 
> EDIT: Thanks to everyone who saw this and left kudos, and the fic recs! My tumblr can be found here:   
> http://miss-nixy.tumblr.com/  
> In case you wanted to to prompt something else? :)

Fuck it's cold. It's supposed to be Spring right? Except there's fog sitting lightly in the air and Mickey has to walk through it. Cos of Ian. Fuck it.

He knew better though, than to let Ian run around alone with his wild, half-assed, stupid ideas. That dumbass redhead had smashed through the front and bedroom door when he came home from work, threw off his clothes and threw himself on top of (into) Mickey. At 3 am. Again.

Awesome.

Even more awesome was once they were done for what, the third time? Ian decided it was time for them to get up. At 6 am. AGAIN.

But Mickey _does_ know better, so when Ian sort’ve sleepily, yet still eagerly said “I’ve got something to show you, you’ll love it!” He didn’t complain, or protest, cos Ian is Ian and that’s that. Just, you know- thank fuck he didn’t want Mickey to go for an 8 mile run.

But walking through the fucking cold to God-knows where for no particular reason? Fuck that. Mickey was complaining. And loudly. Get the fuck over it Ian.

"Maaaaan. It’s freezing, can’t we go back and do this later?" "Ian. C’mooon, it’s fucking freezing!" "Firecrotch, can think of better things we could be doin’. Y’know? Indoors?"

But each time Ian would just give him a smile, wave him off and say, “it’s not far”. Which - apparently it was. Cos they’ve walked like, 100 blocks by now. Or more like 10. Mickey didn’t keep count.

He then smacked into Ian.

Obviously they're here. Thanks for the heads up short-bus.

The whole time they were standing there, Mickey was grumbling, looking around, trying to figure out why the fuck they were here; Ian just kept close to Mickey and smiled at him, waiting.

It wasn’t like there was much, a bunch of run-down shitty houses near a park - that was being used as a junkies playground apparently. Mickey cocks his head a little, he might have new perspective buyers.

He sniffs a bit and turns to Ian with a dull stare, hands in his jacket pockets; he juts them out in a gesture of “what?”, and Ian turns to the pathetic little brown-red house they were standing outside of.

Mickey looks, then stares back at Ian, “and?”

"And, what do you think?"

"It’s a piece of shit." Mickey replies, watching his breath turn to mist. Ian grabs his waist and turns him to the house, slinging an arm over his shoulders, pointing out how short Mickey is, probably as some stupid payback for the comment he made.

"Mick?" Ian pressed. "What?!" "What do you really think? Do you like it?" Mickey gave Ian a quizzical smirk, not really understanding where this is going. What does Ian want, to talk about a ‘dream home’ just like this one, for them and their 2.5 kids? 14 years down the track after Mickey gets out of prison for the 2nd time? Sure thing.

"It’s okay." He huffs out, sick of being out in the cold, though silently happy that Ian’s holding him close. Like a couple of fags. Mickey almost rolled his eyes.

"Just okay?" "Jesus Ian, it’s fine, it’s four walls and a roof, what the fuck are we out here for?" Mickey says a little louder, pointing around accusingly at the pokey little shack.

Ian takes a deep breath, locks eyes with Mickey for a moment, and steps behind him, putting his other arm around his boyfriend, hugging him a little tighter. He presses his chin to black hair, letting out his breath, all while Mickey was wondering what the fuck has got him in such a dipshit Care-Bear mood.

What Ian says next is mumbled and hushed, Mickey cranes his neck and intelligently says “huh?” before he sees the look on Ian’s face, like he was about to shit a brick. “Hey man, wassup?” He asks quietly as he rubs his hand along one of Ian’s arms.

Ian swallows and says, only slightly louder, “it’s ours”.

Mickey blinks. Once. Twice. Before he comes out again with “huh?”

Ian clears his throat, not so confident about his decision since Mickey doesn't seem overly impressed.

Mickey’s brow is furrowed, he doesn't know if Ian is serious or - no he doesn't fucking know what the fuck Ian is- “Ian what the fuck are you saying?” At this point he’s wriggled out of the redheads arms and standing square with him.

Ian shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, trying to smile through his nausea. “I bought it” he barely croaks.

Mickey’s mouth drops open a little.

Ian felt an overwhelming need to explain himself, he begins by not saying anything and grabbing onto the sleeve of Mickey’s parka, trying to plead with his puppy eyes that ‘this seemed like a good idea at the time’.

After Mickey is still sorta staring straight at him, mouth open and brows tight together, not saying anything, Ian begins reeling off every thought he has in his head about the house; it's 2 bedroom, perfect for them and whoever wanted to stay, nice carpets, doesn't smell, no one's died in there for over a year, gas cooking, nice enough area, easy to maintain, cheap enough mortgage -

"I’ve been working so many doubles at the club and getting a little extra here and there and when I started saving I saw this and thought it’d be such a good idea since we can have our own place especially when Terry gets out-"

Mickey moves a little closer and kisses him.

Just like that.

Some unknown fucking force of the universe had shoved their faces together.

It made Ian shut the hell up though.

He bought a house. Ian bought a house. Ian bought a fucking house.

Mickey's body moves away, almost rotating around, and he lets out “holy shit” before kissing his taller partner-in-crime again. Ian bought them a fucking house.

He smackes his hands on Ian’s shoulders and pushes him away, almost shouting (at nearly 7 in the morning) “are you fucking kidding me?!” It would've sounded threatening, but he has a huge smile plastered across his face. Ian felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and if the kiss didn’t do it, Mickey’s smile did.

Ian really doesn’t know what to say though, he just gets excited and smiles back, and like some idiot, starts bobbing his head saying “yeah!”

They stay like that, smiling at each other, Ian still holding Mickey’s parka, before he chimed “you wanna see inside?”

Mickey blurts out “fuckyes” and they both shuffle toward the front door. Their front door. Holy fuck. Ian bought a house.

It seems to take forever to open the front door, anticipation is building in Mickey’s toes and all he can focus on is the key in the doorknob. Their doorknob.

Ian swings the door open and steps in, and the first thing to hit Mickey is the smell. It's probably a raccoon or some shit-oh no, wait, there it is. Right by the door, rotting pretty bad. Ian looks at Mickey with a grimace, then to the doorframe, and felt a little disheartened that the grand opening might have been ruined, but as Mickey steps in, brushes past Ian and takes his scarf off, he yells “well you guys weren’t fuckin’ invited. Movin' day fellas”.

Ian laughs, shuffles the dead animal out and shuts the door.

Mickey's standing in the... what would be the lounge. Ian sees him looking around at the walls, chewing his lip, and he thinks the crappy wallpaper peeling away, the murky stains and the small holes are going to turn his boyfriend off.

Really, Mickey is wondering were the fuck he's going to put his giant-ass TV. And his XBox. Plus his games and movies, they need to go somewhere; but they’re definitely going to the Red Cross or some shit and getting a bigger couch, one of those L-shaped ones. It’ll stretch right across if they placed everything just-so.

Ian decided to try and show off the qualities if the place, opening up the 3 doors that lead off the living area, one to each bedroom at either end, and the bathroom in the middle.

Mickey turns to Ian, who's fussing about the carpet, saying he ‘was going to get it cleaned but renting the machine is cheaper’, as if anyone could give a fuck. But it's their carpet, albeit smudged with dark patches and has mold growing in places, it's theirs. Ian bought them a house.

"Holy fuck man! I just- I can’t believe it!" He's smiling so wide it hurts to talk, but Ian beckons him to the bedroom at the front of the house, and the smaller slinks quickly between the ginger and the door, too excited to miss out on anything.

At first it was just a large room; the carpet is the same beige color but had actual, you know, clean spots, though the wall separating this room and the lounge has double the amount of holes in it. Probably a dozen, fist-sized. Easy fix.

Mickey is about to turn around, not bothering to step in, when Ian hooks his finger into one of Mickey’s belt loops and points out “this is our room.”

Mickey looks at Ian, returning the smile, lowering his head and raising his eyebrows. This was their room, in their house. That Ian bought.

"Betcha can’t wait to christen this place huh?" He comments, knowing all-too-well that’s the best part about Ian’s day.

"After we move in. Or at least clean it out" he replies offhandedly with a smirk, moving from the doorway into the open lounge/dining area again, assuming Mickey would follow. He can’t wait to tell him his plans for the place, he has the cash for new appliances and furniture, and he’s hoping IKEA will be their first stop today.

Mickey was busy staring at the empty bedroom still, from the doorway, looking at the faint gold line on the floor and wondering why it’s there. He looks up and notices a window he overlooked before, closed up and blind drawn down.

Something compelled him to see what's outside, what the view's like. For a moment he had some stupid fantasy it’d be beautiful, like a tree or a lake or something. He pulls the blind up. He was wrong. Just a fence, but he has to squint a little to make out the color because the sun is shining directly in. A normal-ass tall metal fence with a normal-ass house on the other side of it. No tree. No lake.

Mickey breathes out a “pfft” and let his hands drop from the windowsill, turning to leave, but he stops when he sees the sunlight has completely filled the room. Carpet and walls are tinted orange-gold, the sun is high enough to spill over the neigh- their neighbors rooftops and through the window, making the room seem warm and, maybe even a little glorious.

He looks out the door and notices Ian in the small kitchen, talking about how much of a steal he got this place for, how old it was, the last owners…

Mickey just watched him. From their little gold room. It isn’t a particularly exciting or happy thing to do, staring at him like this, somewhat like a stalker. But Mickey has butterflies. For fucks _sake_.

He laughs a little, bowing his head to rub his eyes. It was just, almost, perfect. In it’s own, smells like dead animals, holes in the walls and stains on all floors kinda way. It's perfect. Totally perfect. It's theirs. And this is their room. They aren’t gonna be living under his dad’s roof anymore.

But... that isn’t really the reason it's perfect. Honestly, if Mickey has to put his finger on it... it's seeing Ian from this room. This room here, and the way Ian’s like over there... The way the light pours in and drowns everything in this nice warmth, it'll stream in like this every morning.

Their bedroom. Their little place where Ian can be happy.

Even when he’s really low... he’ll be here, right here, in this warm room. That’s bright and sorta happy-

Holy shit.

They have a house.

And Mickey is officially crying.

 _Fuck_.

Not like, y'know, tears streaming down his face. But he has to look towards the window again, to make sure no one sees, even if it's only Ian.

He swipes the corners if his eyes and coughs a bit to cover up his big sniff, which catches his boyfriend’s attention. Or maybe affection is the word, cos Ian had suddenly crossed the rooms and is all over Mickey.

"Don’t tell me you’re getting sick? We should go home. Put your scarf back on-" Mickey quickly swats him away, maybe feeling a little guilty that he likes getting the attention. "Yeah yeah tough guy. Don’t need no mother or housewife thank you."

Ian chuckles, but yanks the scarf from Mickey’s pocket all the same and wraps it round his neck, smacking his cheek lightly for the comment.

Rolling his eyes, Mickey has become a little nervous that it may be clear to Ian when they’re this close, that he’s been, uh, teary. So he dodges the other arm reaching for him and moves quickly out the door, still smiling as widely as ever, and calls for the douche he left behind.

"C’mon man, we movin’-in or what?"

Ian laughs and follows him, seeing Mickey shake his head at him.

"Can’t believe you bought a fucking house."


End file.
